Fountain of Souls: The Race
by MischaPallasAthenaKitsune
Summary: In a strange turn of events, Megatron discovers the Allspark is still out there and it becomes a race against the clock to find it and restore Cybertron. OC and other pairings to come.


Warnings: violence, dubious consent

* * *

><p>The newest mech was called 'Gravescour'.<p>

At his full height he stood on par with Bulkhead, though he was much thinner. His silver-banded waist was about as big as Bumblebee's, giving the newcomer an almost delicate look. Though he had a broad torso, his limbs were thin and lanky and he was covered with worn, thinning black paint.

The others had thought him a scout, or perhaps a seeker, though he had no visible wings, at first glance. The revelation that he was a medic shocked everyone but Ratchet.

"I can see it," the older bot had said, "he's obviously done extensive work on himself. He appears to be inexperienced, his work a bit janky. But, yes, I could find a use for him."

The newcomer's unwavering smirk left Arcee feeling a bit uneasy, but she, along with Bulkhead, offered to show him around.

They explained their situation to him as they showed off different portions of the base. He stayed silent until the very end of the tour, just observing, smirk never leaving his face. Arcee wondered briefly if an injury or accident had frozen his faceplates like that. After the tour, Gravescour finally gave a full thought; "So, let me get this straight," he said, cocking one hip out and resting his unmodified, black and silver striped servo on it in an overly feminine gesture that made Arcee want to gag and Bulkhead want to chuckle. They did neither. "The main portion of the Decepticon army is on this planet, along with Autobot Alpha One, but we have... What? Two scouts, two Wreckers, one warlord, and now, with me, two medics?" He tilted his black and silver helm, the smirk finally fading from his somewhat long faceplates as he looked between the two.

"As it stands currently, yes," Arcee provided with a slight nod.

"Such a small force…" Gravescour said, cocking his helm.

Bulkhead's lips stayed parted slightly as Arcee laughed at the newcomer's dry tone. The uneasy feeling she'd had upon the new mech's arrival was starting to dissipate. "Care for some energon?" Arcee asked. "I'm starting to feel a little low."

"Ah. No, thank you. I don't require refueling yet, but I appreciate the offer," Gravescour said, smirk slipping back in place.

"Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find it.

"You can probably report to Ratchet if you want something to do. I'm sure he's found a million tasks for you by now," she said, reaching out to pat the armor plating that curved up from his wrist joints to a soft 'point' just beyond the bend of his arm. She didn't miss the way he stiffened, nor the way his optics dimmed as he looked at the small servo on his arm. She withdrew and made a mental note not to casually touch him in the future.

"Thank you," he said. "I appreciate your patience." He didn't wait to see if they had anything else to say, as he'd already been given permission to leave. He missed the confused glances that passed between Arcee and Bulkhead.

Gravescour reported to Ratchet right away, no pleasantries between their introduction and his request for an assignment. What he was given was more or less busywork, organizing less-than-important files that the CMO had neglected to categorize himself in his tinkering with the human machines.

Forty-five cycles later, Gravescour reported his completion of the task.

"Impossible," Ratchet mumbled, checking the other's work. "Well, I'll be a Plumerian swamp creature. Good work."

Gravescour dipped his helm in a slight bow of acknowledgement. "Have you any other tasks for me, sir?"

Ratchet smiled a bit at the respectful wording, but frowned when he realized he had no other tasks to offer.

"I'm afraid I don't," he said, turning to the main screen. "Though, if the others haven't, I can bring you up to speed on what we're doing on this Primus-forsaken rock."

"I would appreciate it, sir."

"Then come closer," Ratchet said, pulling up various diagrams. Gravescour watched and listened intently as Ratchet explained the situation, often getting sidetracked by explaining how the intricate systems of his design worked. The new mech cocked his helm from time to time to show that he was listening.

Ratchet found himself very pleased by the way the younger bot looked to him to continue in rapt fascination every time he paused for dramatic effect, his spark swelling with pride at his achievements and the recognition thereof.

He explained the race for energon deposits and the conflicts they'd already had over them.

"Forgive me, sir, if I'm speaking out of turn, but if the Decepticons have focused their attentions on larger deposits, would it not be more effective for us to turn to the smaller ones and take them quickly and quietly before they notice?"

"You know, that's actually a fairly good idea. But," Ratchet returned to the screen with the map of the mostly-water planet; "The limitations of this human technology are many. So far, we've only been able to detect medium-sized deposits if the 'Cons send out a scouting crew to the locations." With a few taps to the keyboard, the view of the map zoomed in and several hundred Decepticon symbols appeared on the map, all in close proximity. "If you'll note the glow, those are our readings on the energon. We can see what they've unearthed clear as day. However," he said, typing away again, bringing up another screen, "we believe this to be another fairly large deposit, and its resonance is much weaker, as it is quite possibly several miles underground, under minerals that have given human technologies problems for decades."

Gravescour looked thoughtful for a moment. "How are these signals received by the human computers?"

"What do you mean?"

"Ah, I apologize for the lack of clarity. I meant to say 'what is the technology being used in the scanning of the planet?' How does it work?" Gravescour waited patiently, leaning as casually as his nervous disposition allowed him to against the railing, his hip cocked dramatically to one side.

After explaining how sonar and radar worked, Ratchet expressed that he was open to suggestions. Gravescour brought to the table questions of all the other forms of technology the humans possessed. The satellites got a particularly long moment of discussion between the two mechs, but that subject was eventually dropped in favor of the black mech's whim that they might be able to bounce their own signals off of cell towers and use the various reactions they received from that to locate energon.

Ratchet noticed the pose and his optics widened. He chewed the inside of his lip plating as he tried to connect to ground sources and determine if the way the younger mech stood was a flirtatious gesture. He cast the thought from his processors with a shake of his helm, figuring the younger mech just wouldn't be interested in someone like he and just stood in an enticing manner due to an injury. Or a rusty joint. Or some raw wires that a stance like that eased the pressure on. With the possibility of flirtatious behavior taken off the table, Ratchet's concern for the younger mech grew and niggled at him, distracting him from his task. It took, in Ratchet's opinion, several cycles longer than it should have.

"It appears that we can. Signal strength in what the humans call North America has been boosted by thirty percent. Excellent idea you had, Gravescour."

"You would have figured it out even without me here, I am certain."

Gravescour had a rather smooth voice, Ratchet noticed. It wasn't exactly the most masculine, but it wasn't shrill and certainly didn't hit the audials in a bad way.

"As true as that may be," Ratchet started, pride puffing out his chest plates, "you did hasten the process."

"Have you another task for me, sir?"

Ratchet smirked. He had the feeling he would get along quite well with the new mech. "No, but Optimus might. Have a look at these readings," Ratchet said, pointing out several energon signals as they appeared on the screen.

A short while later the thin, black mech found himself on an away team with Arcee, Cliffjumper, and a former Wrecker known as Leveler.

"Wow, would ya look at that!" the yellow mech said proudly. She gave Gravescour a heavy pat on the back, making him stumble. "Good work."

"Yeah, I'm impressed," Arcee admitted as they surveyed the find.

It wasn't a huge deposit, but it would last a few weeks at the least.

"Ratchet did all the work. I merely gave him the idea."

"Humble too," Leveler cooed, grinning at the other.

"Don't feed into his ego. That's the last thing he needs," Arcee said lowly and chuckled.

Gravescour looked puzzled briefly, tagging along behind the femmes.

"May I ask what you mean by that?"

"She means that Ratchet is a bit of a-"

Leveler's words were cut off as she was tackled by a dark blur. The others jumped to attention while the yellow femme rolled around in the dirt, arms locked with a black, silver and gold mech. The red-eyed flyer hissed as he was tossed off to the side, but straddled the burly Wrecker before she could get to her feet.

"Slagit Riot!" she hissed as he let out hot puffs of air on her faceplates.

"Leveler," he growled in acknowledgement.

A rather large squad of flying scouts took the rest of the team's attention away from the wrestling bots. Taking Riot by the shoulders, Leveler threw the leader of the drone scouts into the dirt beside her. She rolled over and covered her face with one servo, the cannon on her other arm powering up.

"You smell terrible!" she informed the Decepticon. "Haven't you heard of showers?!"

"I'm in heat!" he groused incredulously, clawing for her leg as she pushed herself back, away from the other's grasp. "So, uh, suck my spike for old times' sake?" he teased.

"Uh, in case you haven't noticed," Leveler said, getting to her feet, "we aren't friends anymore."

"Then I guess I'll just have to cut open your throat and use that!"

"Fat chance!" she cried, firing a few shots at the attacking mech who nearly danced his way out of the way of each blast.

"Then open your interface paneling," Riot growled, ducking in close to knock the femme off balance and mount her from behind.

"It wouldn't do any good if I did, remember?" she asked, hooking a leg around a black and gold striped one to roll him under her bulk.

"Scrap! I forgot you don't have the equipment!" Riot complained, his visor snapping down into place over his face as he pushed at the mass that reclined against him. "No wonder you think I smell bad," he groused, finding a burst of strength to shove her off. "Everyone else thinks I smell good enough to eat," he purred in an overt sexual manner.

"I wouldn't eat you if you were the last energon source in existence!"

The two locked up again, servo to shoulder plating, in a contest of strength. Riot's excess energy from his heat gave him the extra power he needed to push the femme to her knees, but his delirium kept him from being able to keep her wriggling form in one place. He roared out his frustration, pressing a heeled pede into her chest plates and shoving her, once more, to the dirt.

"I suppose you're lucky that you don't have to deal with this!" he hissed, stepping forward to sit on her chest. Leveler brought up her cannon, holding it just to the left of his spark chamber. But the black mech grabbed the appendage at the elbow and shoved it back so the shot he knew she wouldn't fire couldn't damage him 'just in case'. "If I could ever use a favor, it's now, Leveler," he moaned quietly, grinding his hot plating against her chest over her rapidly pulsing spark.

"You lost your chance at getting any favors from me when you went and joined the 'Cons," she said, struggling against his hold.

"I need- ugh!" He jumped up when tiny energon blasts buzzed past his helm. He ducked out of the way, holding a servo up to protect his face before attempting to return fire.

Arcee, after saving Leveler for a moments' time, was swamped by a handful of drones. The yellow femme soon found herself in the same position, watching her former friend amble away for a few seconds before dodging laser fire became a priority.

"May I have this dance?" Riot asked, sliding in under a tossed aside drone, sidling up to Cliffjumper. He knocked the red mech to his knees with a well-placed strike of his heel. The red mech let out a startled gasp, his optics widening as he drew in the scent of the other's heat. He found his oral cavity lubricating against his will, his optics dilating and brightening.

"You're-"

"Yeah, and you're gonna help me out, Autobot. If you do, I'll let you live." Cliffjumper fisted his servos, throwing a punch that connected with the side of Riot's helm. The black mech lurched to his right and snarled. Over-correcting, he toppled to the left, reaching out to take the other with him. He pinned the red body awkwardly on its side, rutting against his hip, one hand holding the other in place by his neck, the other caressing a horn.

"Ohh, that don't feel too bad. Shame you're a 'Con," Cliffjumper said, rocking back and forth in an attempt to dislodge the larger mech. Unfortunately for the Autobot, it only succeeded in allowing Riot to roll him onto his front and pin him down and put him in a better position to be humped. "You give all your enemies this treatment?" Cliffjumper joked, trying to push himself up. When he slipped, servos slipping in dust, the other raked his fingers down the length of red arms before pinning them at the wrists.

"Open for me," Riot purred, still moving his hips against the other's aft. "It's your only way out, seeing as your teammates are otherwise occupied."

Cliffjumper couldn't deny that the prospect sounded like a good one, the stench of the other's heat and his overwhelming, erratic EM field seeping into his every seam and affecting his thoughts. But he held on for a bit, still thrashing to free himself.

"You can struggle, Autobot, but I will have you. I can feel you getting hot." Riot licked a stripe up the side of Cliffjumper's helm to suckle on a horn, eliciting a moan from the mech beneath him. Cliffjumper went still, his fans clicking on as the jet fellated his sensitive chevron. After a moment, he found he could no longer deny the animal pull and gave in, exposing himself to Riot's every whim.

[...]

Almost to his overload, and Cliffjumper's humiliation complete, Riot hissed his appreciation of his willing partner.

"Wh- ah- Cliff!" Arcee gasped. She powered up her cannons and fired shot after shot after a growling Riot, who pulled out of Cliffjumper to flee the stinging sensations licking up his armor. The jet couldn't quite get his spike to depressurize, and bound back awkwardly as the thick metal swung between his legs, Cliffjumper's fluids dripping from it. He snarled and powered up his own cannon to fire back at the speedy femme.

"Gotcha!" Leveler said, wrapping a thick, yellow arm around his torso, pulling him back against her. Arcee glared for a moment before turning to Cliffjumper.

"I'll take Cliff back and send in reinforcements," she called out to the other femme.

"Sure thing, hun!" Leveler responded, holding on to the squirming, fire-hot jet with much difficulty.

"Ratchet, need a ground-bridge. Cliff is hurt," Arcee said, one servo on the red mech's shoulder, holding him in place.

"Arcee," Cliff whined softly, "it's more my pride than anything else. I don't think I'm torn, and it's not like I was a virgin, ya know?" He gave a weak smile as he got to his pedes. He grimaced and let Arcee support him. "Ok, maybe something is torn, but I think it's in my back, not my valve."

"Hush," Arcee ordered, "lean on me."

"Aww Ar-"

"Shut up and come on!"

"Alright, alright," he said, slumping against her. She bore his weight with a grunt and he resisted rolling his optics, sure it wouldn't do too much damage to whatever was injured in his back to walk the few meters to the ground bridge. He grimaced when his interface panel snapped closed, and swore he could hear Arcee plotting murder.

"What the Pit is wrong with you?!" Leveler asked, trying to wrap one of her thicker legs around the slimmer, thrashing, kicking ones that dented her thigh plating and dug harshly into her knee joints. In lieu of answering, Riot continued to snarl and thrash, pulling with an uncharacteristic strength that had the yellow femme readjusting her grip every few seconds. Riot freed himself by hooking his heel into some sensitive seams and pulling, dropping the larger bot to her knees. He shimmied out from under her before she could fall on him and be pinned under her weight. He delivered a knee to her faceplates before a blast from an unfamiliar cannon knocked him off course. He snarled at the intruder, only to find himself face-to-chest plates with Bulkhead.

"Scrap," he growled after taking stock of his situation. None of his reinforcements were anywhere to be seen and Leveler was getting to her feet, readying her own cannon. The slim, black mech he'd only briefly seen when they first appeared joined the other two, looking over at Riot with a cocked helm. "Fall back!" Riot called out, taking jet form and flying off. He was joined by only two other jets from the squad he'd brought.

Bulkhead and Leveler kept their weapons trained on the retreating forms for a moment, until Ratchet's voice rang out over their comm systems, asking for an update on the situation. Bulkhead answered and a ground bridge was opened. The former Wreckers sat about breaking apart and bringing back what energon they could while Gravescour left to assist Ratchet in the medbay.

After Cliffjumper was safely in the medical bay, the order was given to bring as much of the discovered energon through the ground bridge before the Decepticons undoubtedly attacked again. This responsibility fell on Leveler and Bulkhead, as well as Bumblebee and Gravescour. The two Wreckers broke apart the crystalline growths and placed them in a dumpster they accrued for that purpose, and once it was nearly full, the smaller members carried it through the ground bridge.

"So," Bulkhead started, snapping off another crystal and tossing it into the container, "Cliffjumper didn't look quite as devastated as I thought he would when I heard what had happened."

"Yeah, Arcee took it much worse. Cliff is tough, I'm sure after he and Arcee have a nice long talk, he'll be alright," Leveler responded, putting one large, white pede through a particularly tough chunk of energon. Her yellow torso glistened with light refracted off of the crystals as she picked up two armfuls.

"Yeah, but," Bulkhead stopped for a moment to pick up a few crystals that she dropped in her haste to toss the collection she had in the dumpster, "he was... raped." Bulkhead had a little difficulty actually saying the word.

"I'm sure he sees it as just another assault," Leveler reasoned.

"He shouldn't, though. I mean, kicking someone's aft is one thing, but, that..." Bulkhead ripped a particularly large growth from the native rock as he trailed off. "Riot was in heat and I think Cliff was affected by it. I don't know all that medical stuff that goes along with it, but it makes mechs react, uh, oddly, ya know? He should be devastated, but he's not."

"What do you mean?" Leveler asked, pausing her work for a moment.

"What do you mean 'what do you mean'? Wouldn't you be just spark-broken if someone forced you to do something like that?"

"That's not what I meant," Leveler said, one side of the seam her lip plates made tilted down in a frown-like expression. "What's a heat? I mean, I know it has something to do with how we made offspring and the Well of Allsparks and all of that, but... Did the Decepticons weaponize it? Are they trying to get us all sparked Up so we won't fight them?"

Bulkhead gave his friend a look of horrified disbelief.

"What?" she asked, obviously confused and a little bit upset by it.

"Haven't you ever had a heat cycle?" Bulkhead asked.

"No?" was the response.

"Uh, well, I think Ratchet might be better to talk to about this than me," he said, awkwardly rubbing the side of his helm.

"Can't you just tell me what it is? If the 'Cons are using it as a weapon, I think I should know about it, hun," she said as she resumed her work.

"But, uh, you're close to my age, aren't you?" the green mech asked, following close behind the yellow and white femme.

"I'm three decades older than you, Bulk, so there's no need to handle me with kid gloves," she paused to grin before adding "junior."

Bulkhead gave a mildly irritated shrug of his shoulders and looked at the femme for a moment. To him, she was just as beautiful as she always was, all thick and strong with that strange yet endearing accent. He was well aware that most found her generally displeasing as she had a tendency to be loud and get in everyone's business, though she did it because she cared about their health. Usually. He also found that most who fancied femmes preferred much more slender models. But her strength was what drew him to her. Her physicality was nothing to be scoffed at, and the yellow curls of metal that hung down over each side of her face were, to Bulkhead, oddly cute. A thought crossed his mind and he blurted it out before his logic processors got ahold of it. "Have you ever interfaced?"

"Nope, sure haven't," she responded, dumping another armload of energon crystals into the half-full container.

"Can I ask why not?" he chanced, curious even though some considered it a touchy subject.

"Never wanted to," she said with a shrug. "Seen some bots do it. Looked interesting, but not like my cup of energon."

She looked over at him with a look that said she thought she'd figured something out. "So, do you have to have interfaced before to have a heat? Whatever that is, since you still haven't told me."

"Man, didn't you go to second school?"

"No, actually. I barely had time to finish first school before I was put to work," she answered.

"Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't know. But, I thought second school was mandatory?"

"It was, but you'd be surprised how many bots were perfectly alright with hiring illegal workers because they could pay them less," she said, grunting with the effort of pulling an oddly shaped chunk from the dirt. Bulkhead decided to assist, grabbing the chunk closer to the ground and pulling hard.

"Was it because of your creator's high-grade addiction?" Bulkhead asked through strained grunts. The piece snapped, both of the bots falling on their afts. Leveler dropped her end of the piece, but Bulkhead still held onto it as he gave her a questioning look.

"Yup," she said, snatching the chunk from him and depositing it in the dumpster. "I think we should call 'Bee and 'Scour over to get this. It's getting pretty full."

Bulkhead agreed and commed the scout, who churred in the affirmative. As the two smaller mechs carried away the dumpster, Leveler looked around. "It looks like we've got almost everything above ground. We're gonna have'ta break some earth here soon." She cocked her helm at Bulkhead, Who had an oddly thoughtful expression on his faceplates. "We're good friends, right Bulkhead?" she asked.

The Wrecker seemed startled by this question. "Yeah, of course! Why?"

"Because I find it just a little weird that you won't tell me what a heat is."

"That's because it's embarrassing!" Bulkhead groused. Leveler looked at him expectantly and he groaned. "It's... this thing. Yes, it does have a lot to do with making offspring. Uh, it's a part of our baser programming that inspires us to, um, breed."

"That doesn't sound embarrassing at all," Leveler complained.

"It is, though! Because, well, it makes you have this need to interface. It's unbearable! If you don't do it, you can go crazy or fry systems!" Leveler hummed in thought, sitting on an outcropping of rock. She looked at Bulkhead as if she expected him to say more. "Uh, that's basically it."

"So, we- well, you, the others- still have this even though the Well of Allsparks is," she stopped and waved one servo about.

"Yeah. It's a part of our base programming. If you haven't had one, I think you should talk to Ratchet. If, uh, you need support, I could go with you. Or Arcee. I think it's slightly different for femmes, but I don't know how."

"Nah. I'm not embarrassed or anything. I'll go talk to him later. Thanks." She stood and returned to work, kicking down the last of the standing crystals above ground. Bulkhead powered up his cannon, about to blow up a patch of dirt to get to the crystal under it when Leveler stopped him. "Hey," she said.

"Yeah?"

"One more thing."

"What is it?"

"So, Riot isn't sick or anything, right? It's just a normal thing an' he's not being, like, I dunno... He's not having his baser programming changed somehow to, like, use his heat as a weapon, right?"

"I wouldn't think so," Bulkhead said. He aimed his cannon at the base of where a large crystal once stood and fired a few shots. Leveler shielded her optics and when the dust settled, the two started picking energon shards out of the debris. "So, you knew him pretty well, huh?" Bulkhead asked, leaning down to pick up chunks and put them in his other arm.

"Yeah. We were good friends before the war. Even dated. Briefly," she stressed.

"So, you dated and you never interfaced?"

"I never wanted to and he never pushed me to. Which is why 'm surprised that he forced Cliff into doing that."

"It had to have been the heat," Bulkhead offered.

"If that's what it does to bots, I'm glad I've never had one," she said with a shake of her helm.

"Well, it's different for everyone. Some handle it better than others.

You've, uh," Bulkhead paused, wondering if he should really reveal that little tidbit of information, but sagged a bit and continued; "You've seen me in heat, and I didn't force anybot to do anything."

"I have? When?"

"Eh, do I have to talk about it? It's embarrassing for me," Bulkhead complained.

"I suppose not," Leveler said, piling up the energon shards she'd gathered with the ones he'd collected. "But, thank you," she said, wrapping her arms around his torso as best she could for just a few seconds. Bulkhead could feel energon rushing to his cheeks as he loosely returned the hug. When she pulled away, he frowned. "They're back with the container," she said before turning to Bumblebee. "We're almost done here, it looks like. There'll probably only be one or two more trips needed."

Bumblebee chirped a positive response and gave a loose salute as Gravescour nodded politely. The two walked off, back to guarding the continuously open ground-bridge while Bulkhead and Leveler finished collecting the energon.

* * *

><p>As soon as he touched down on the Nemesis' landing strip, Riot transformed and let out a brief, angry, wordless shout. He stomped inside, the surviving drones under his command hunching their shoulder plating and ducking out of the way. As enticing as his smell was, they collectively decided, they'd rather live. Riot's visor clicked into place as he entered the ship, stomping down the halls. He vented deeply, trying to get a hold of himself before he reported to Megatron. It wouldn't do him any favors to be mouthy or wanton in the warlord's presence. After a few short cycles, he'd gotten enough cool air to his systems to temporarily contain the raging inferno inside him. His cooling fans still ran at an embarrassingly high gear, but he knew he could use the battle as an excuse. No drones glanced curiously at him as he stormed down the hallway toward the bridge, all of them pressing themselves against the wall to get away from the fluctuating EM field.<p>

He keyed in a request to enter the bridge, and it was granted. When he stepped in, he clutched his hands together tightly behind his back. Megatron scoffed as he looked over at the recently promoted mech, his upper lip plate raised slightly.

"Report," he bit out, turning from what he'd been looking at over some drone's shoulder plating. The drone visibly relaxed when their leader's attention was taken from him.

"The Autobots were already on the site when we got there, sir," he said, trying not to grit his denta, wary of upsetting the unusually attractive warlord. "There were seven fatalities and one additional casualty." He drew in a deep vent to alleviate the heat that grew in his core at the intense stare from Megatron. His lip quirked further until he was nearly snarling. Riot had a strong and ridiculous urge to drop to his knees before the other, something he'd never felt before. It deeply disturbed the black mech. "Luckily, most of the deposit is underground. The Autobots do not c-currently have the technology necessary to mine the energon, so we will be able to return later and claim seventy percent of it as our own." Riot silently cursed himself for stammering, pulling his armor close against himself when Megatron took a few calculated steps closer. The gray mech glared down at him, taking in a breath of his scent.

"See to it that the site is reclaimed," Megatron growled. Riot felt it in his knee struts, the parts in his legs going weak. His valve cycled down on nothing and he barely shut off his vocalizer before he could whimper. "Report to Soundwave once you've gotten your stench under control, in no less than one megacycle. Understood?"

"Y-yes sir," Riot vented, digging the tips of one set of digits into the other palm. Soundwave briefly looked up from his calculations toward Megatron. He turned back to his work with nothing further to gauge his mood by.

"Dismissed," Megatron growled, not even a foot from Riot's visor; the warlord's hot venting had it fogging up.

Riot hurried from the bridge, cursing his heat, Arcee, and himself for thinking about submitting himself bodily to Megatron. His valve cycled again and he whimpered, deciding he needed to find an alcove to relieve himself in. No drones walked about, all having fled fearing the wrath of a ranked officer in heat. With duty shifts not scheduled to change for quite some time, he decided to find the first quiet corner he could and rid himself of his tension. He ran one servo over his chest plates without thinking about it as his mind wandered. He thought about the whole reason he was aboard the accursed ship in the first place: Starscream. The slender seeker was someone Riot admired for more than just his looks, though in his delirium, his looks were all the black mech could think of.

He thought of the way the paneling on Starscream's torso overlapped and grew smaller and thinner as it curved down over the slim waist, the way his codpiece drew attention to his hips and realized, as he ran his glossa over his lip plating, that he wanted to kiss and lick the metal until it retracted and his spike paneling opened and revealed his spike to him. He imagined it was long and slender like the rest of him, with red biolights.

[...]

At the sound of light steps, Riot's visored helm snapped up, pulled from his fantasies of Starscream. He panted as he locked optics with one of his fellow elite seekers. When he growled, the silver mech cocked his helm and made to apologize to Riot. His words caught in his vocalizer as he was grabbed and pulled flush against the thicker body.

"Frag me," Riot ordered.

"Sir?" the seeker asked, though he didn't hesitate to get his servos on the black frame.

"I'm in heat," Riot growled, nipping on the edge of the other's face mask. "I need to get fragged. Hard. Now!"

"Y-yes sir," the silver mech panted, digging sharp fingers into Riot's hip seams.

[...]

"Ah slag," Riot groaned at the mess they'd made.

"I take it you prefer natural heat cycles over repressionary chemicals, sir?" the elite squad member asked, admiring his fluids on the other's frame.

"What?"

"I'd assume you'd have gotten represents from Loopspring in medical if you didn't prefer handling your heat cycles naturally. I was just wondering why."

"You mean I can get medication to stop this?!" Riot shrieked.

"Yes... sir? You were unaware?"

"Why didn't you tell me before I publicly made a fool of myself?!" Riot shouted, grabbing the slimmer mech by the throat.

"I was certain you w-were aware of it!"

"Well I wasn't!" Riot griped before he was possessed by a moment of amazing strength and threw the seeker into the wall. The 'clang' sounded painful and debris from the collision fluttered down around the flyer who slumped to the ground after impacting the wall. He let out a pained groan and rubbed at his dented helm. "Useless-!" Riot grumbled to himself. He looked around at the mess he'd made and groaned again. "Make yourself useful and clean this mess up!" He barked before hastily wiping his fluids from his torso and stomping off, not even hearing the muttered 'yes sir' the elite seeker let out.

…

"Starscream" Megatron started, hands clasped behind his back, as per usual.

"Yes, my lord?" the pretty seeker asked, his wings clicking down a notch out of fear of being chastised for something insignificant.

"I will be embarking on a journey very shortly and I will require you to watch over my empire while I am gone."

Wings ticking back up, Starscream raised his head and straightened his posture a bit. A smile split his face-plates and he tried his best to hide it. "I would be honored, sir!"

"Honored, yes," Megatron said quietly, more to himself than to his second. "Do make sure you work with Soundwave and don't make any foolish mistakes in my absence."

"Of course and of course not, my liege. I wouldn't do anything you wouldn't do."

"I highly doubt that," the warlord groused. "My army better still be here when I return, Starscream," Megatron threatened, glowering down at the smaller mech.

"Y-yes sir!"

With a more threatening growl, Megatron brushed past Starscream as he stalked toward the exit of the bridge. "You have the bridge, Starscream"

The slender mech hunched his shoulders and grinned deviously.

* * *

><p>A few days later, Ratchet found himself pleased when he walked into the area of the base cordoned off as his lab and found a cup of energon at his station and Gravescour already hard at work filling the sorry excuse for a conversion machine they had with energon crystals, monitoring the shoddy parts with all of his attention.<p>

"Good morning, Gravescour," Ratchet greeted, picking up the cup. He took a sip and let the liquid flow over his taste receptors. "Oh, that's good," Ratchet said. "Fresh and sweet." After a moment, he gave Gravescour a nervous look. "You didn't make it all this way, did you? This is hardly medical grade."

"No sir, just two cups. One for you and one for Optimus," Gravescour responded, not looking away from the tubing he was considering replacing.

"Well," Ratchet said and took another sip. It was the sweetest beverage he'd had in decades. "You could've made a little more than that," he muttered with an unusually good-natured tone. A good breakfast will do that to you, he thought when he realized he was a bit more chipper than he usually was when he first woke from recharge. "Has Optimus tasted this yet? For that matter, have you?"

"I had to taste it to make sure it was not disgusting, sir."

"How much did you have?" Ratchet asked, reluctantly setting the cup aside to boot up his work station. The only things that were left running overnight were the security systems, the ground-bridge controls and the most basic of scanners because they had their own concerns about energy. Though being concerned about electricity was a foolish concern, Ratchet thought, as if he just had the materials he could construct a device that could power the entire state. For free.

"Only a sip, sir. Just enough to taste it and analyze the earthen sweeteners to find out if there was anything harmful to us in them. There is not."

"Did you refuel yet?" Ratchet asked, bringing up the data recorded from the previous night.

"No sir. I do not require it yet," Gravescour responded.

"Ya know," Ratchet said, almost ready to kick himself for it, "you don't have to call me sir every time you speak to me. Once or twice in a conversation is satisfactory," he added, lest the younger mech get cocky.

"Noted."

"Why didn't you make any of the sweet energon for yourself?" Ratchet asked, making conversation as the infuriatingly slow human technology was being just that.

"As I said, I don't require refueling yet."

"Yes, but you could have it later, when you do."

"I don't think I've done enough to deserve it, sir." He sounded like he wanted to say more, but didn't.

"What do you mean by that?" Ratchet asked, eyeing the other.

"Ah, that I just got here. To make myself a treat would be presumptuous of me," the black mech answered.

"So, you only felt that Optimus and I deserved the treat?" Ratchet teased, feeling ornery.

"At first, I only made a cup for you, but then Optimus walked by. When I realized he was still awake, I thought he could use a little pick-me-up. He works very hard."

"He does," Ratchet agreed, picking his cup back up. He felt a bit flattered at being held in a higher regard than Optimus by the nurse. "You should make a cup for everyone. Including yourself," Ratchet said, "and thank you. For this."

"You are welcome, sir. May I pause the energon conversion process to replace this wire?" Gravescour asked. Ratchet determined he liked this mech.

"I believe we have enough energon to temporarily stop the process. Be my guest."

Elsewhere on the base, Arcee was watching Bumblebee play some human video game. She watched the screen as two humans fought each other. "Don't you ever get tired of fighting?" Arcee asked with a raised brow ridge.

Bumblebee churred in the negative, then added that he only meant when it came to video games. He chirped a question to Arcee, asking what she'd rather do.

"I don't know, but an oil bath sounds pretty nice right now. I'd like to take a nice, long hot bath with Cliff and Leveler and maybe even Bulkhead and just relax and talk."

Bumblebee whistled and churred in a way that sounded almost like he was laughing. Arcee did not look amused.

"That was in no way dirty, pervbot," she scolded with a shake of her helm. Bumblebee continued his odd, churring laughter until his character on the screen died and let out a beeped curse. Arcee smirked. "It's for the better, 'Bee, We have to report in for scouting duty soon. Apparently we're all going solo today."

Patrol had been boring. Arcee and Cliffjumper made small talk over their comms. Then things took a dramatic and terrifying turn.

There was an explosion, the others knew that much. Then Cliffjumper stopped responding.

…

"Well, well, well," Starscream taunted, making Cliffjumper roll his optics. The action hurt a little bit, but he couldn't resist it. The newly-crowned leader continued to rant and the red mech tuned him out. He tuned out the world until he heard the door open.

"Sir," Riot said, stepping in. The door swished shut behind him and Cliffjumper grinned.

"Hey, how come you never called, sweetaft? Do all 'Cons just frag and run?"

Though he didn't want to dignify the comment with a response, Riot tilted his helm back and looked down his nasal ridges at the prone mech. His optics glinted behind his sunglasses-shaped visor as he spoke; "If I recall correctly, it was one of your allies that forced me to 'run' and prevented either of us from getting off."

Starscream's face held an expression that was a mix of confusion and disgust. As he put two and two together, his upper lip plate inched upward and his brow plates down as disgust and annoyance took over his features.

"Like you could get anyone off with that thing," Cliffjumper said with a snort.

"Well!" Starscream interrupted as Riot was about to retort, "I can see that I won't be getting anything further from you." He placed the tips of all his claws together and skewered Cliffjumper through the chest.

Riot turned his helm away slightly, frowning at the sound of the red mech's dying gasps. It wasn't as though he felt bad about it, Riot told himself, Cliffjumper was an Autobot regardless of the fact that he'd buried his spike in him in the throes of his heat. Starscream made a pleased noise as he licked energon from his fingers and started to stride away, leaving the body behind.

"Come, Riot," he said as he paused at the exit to the room. The bigger jet followed without protest.

Though he found himself glancing back at the red body, a slight chill found him as he thought 'better him than Leveler,' and he mentally kicked himself for it. He should have no reservations about killing the yellow femme, as she'd chosen her side and yet while he wanted to see her looking up at him from the dirt, utterly defeated, the thought of it being her body on the floor behind him filled him with dread. He tried to shake it off as he followed the slim seeker who was still licking his claws and almost purring like an earth cat.

"That one, really?" Starscream asked after a long silence.

"I was in heat, s-sir," Riot stammered.

"Still, have some dignity," the seeker chastised.

"W-well, when that turned out poorly, I, uh, took care of my urges with a member of the armada."

"Much better."

"I wasn't aware I could get heat suppressants from medical."

Starscream chuckled at the comment and turned to look at Riot with a smirk. "I do believe you have a mine to re-secure, don't you my dear?" Starscream said teasingly, sending a shiver up the younger bot's frame.

"Yes sir," he muttered, ducking his helm subserviently.

* * *

><p>AN: So, yeah, another OC fic. If that's your thing, enjoy. Feel free to point out our OC's character flaws and Sue-ish behavior. In fact, I encourage it.<p>

EN: I also encourage it. Reviews are nice in general. This is our first Transformers fic and hope you enjoy. Also, the [...] bits are ones removed, the unedited version can be found here:

/works/2652560


End file.
